Unvanquished
by chezchuckles
Summary: AU. What happens to Kate Beckett when the Dragon is slain - and she's charged with his murder?
1. Chapter 1

**Unvanquished**

* * *

". . .the two of us. . .not even people any longer: the two  
supreme undefeated  
like two moths, two feathers riding above a hurricane."  
-The Unvanquished, William Faulkner

* * *

When they came for her, Castle was holding her hand in the lobby of his building.

When they came for her, she growled and clung, for a moment, ever tighter to him before she went willingly. They handcuffed her.

She said, "I didn't do it. Castle. I didn't-"

"I'm calling my lawyer. Don't say a word."

* * *

He didn't need reassuring; he didn't need her to try to explain why she didn't have an alibi for that night and why when he'd called her back, she hadn't picked up either.

The Dragon was slain. He didn't care who'd done it.

He didn't need more words from her, or the pleading fear of her eyes, or the way the glass divided them in holding.

He just needed her.

"I'll get you out, Kate. I will get you out."

* * *

He was determined to do this. No matter what she might say.

He brought her lawyer with him into the room; she was led inside and the handcuffs taken off. As soon as the guard stepped back through the door, Castle was at her, wrapping his arms around her and burying his nose in the sterile-starched prison-scent of her neck.

She winced but clung tighter.

"Did they move you?" he gruffed, not waiting for her answer before slanting his lips over hers, visceral, the feeling of need like a hook in his guts that was being tugged by the hot reel of her mouth.

"Just today," she gasped back, arching in his arms. And not in pleasure, he knew.

He curled his hand at the back of her neck and kept her close for a moment longer, despite the lawyer who'd already set up shop at the table, files spread out, plan in place.

"Kate," he groaned, kissed her eyelids as he tried to pull himself together. But she wouldn't let go.

"Doesn't hurt that bad," she muttered, pressing her forehead against his with a shuddering breath.

He skated his hands under the white tshirt, past the waistband of her orange prison pants, fingers along her spine. She jerked at the touch.

"Doesn't hurt?" he murmured, desolation making his voice crack. They were going to kill her in here if he couldn't get this moving, get this going fast enough.

"Not - ah - not as bad," she corrected, something in her tone that made him stiffen. "I'll live."

_For now._

"Kate," he said finally, taking a step back from her to catch her eyes. She was crying; she lifted the back of her hand to her cheeks, swiped at the wetness.

She shook her head at him when he canted forward again; she held him off with a hand at his chest. "How'd you get the lawyer room?"

"I know a guy," he said, giving her a ghost of a smile. But it was hollow. Everything was hollow. "Kate, the prosecution has subpoenaed me."

Whatever small hope he'd brought with him dropped clean off her face; she slumped and raised a hand to her forehead, hiding her eyes from him.

When she spoke, her voice rasped. "I thought they might."

"I'm not going to do it."

She lowered her hand; her face was pale now, so pale he could see the bruises at her cheekbone, the faint mark at her jaw, the scratch just in front of her ear. Fights. She'd had to fight every day.

"You're not - Castle. You have to. They will hold you in contempt of court."

"I won't do it." His fists balled up at his sides, but he took a breath, reminded himself to be logical. Be calm. Or she would never agree.

"Castle, you can't - they'll put you in jail until you do, give you a fine-"

"You think I care about a fine?"

"I think you care about your family. Alexis-"

"Don't start," he said, swallowing hard. "Kate, I won't testify against you."

"Castle," she gritted out, closing her eyes briefly. "Don't put this on me too. Not another thing. I can't - I can't handle being responsible for ruining this too-"

He reached for her then, tugged her into his arms, tried to absorb every shaky, plaintive word, every fear, every sense of hopelessness.

"Kate. Would you marry me?"

* * *

Beckett sat stiffly in the chair, staring at the special circumstances license. Her heart pounded, but her body was numb. She couldn't tamp down the awareness of him that crawled through her veins; she needed him in a way that humiliated her, in a way that also pulled her out of darkness each morning and kept her going.

"This is not a good idea," she said, but her voice wavered.

"They can't force me to testify against my spouse," Castle said, leaning in close to her. He'd pulled the chair around to her side of the table, and she knew it was a not-so-subtle way of reminding her she wasn't alone, but it worked. It worked.

"But-"

"Kate, I'm not testifying against you. Even if you won't sign the marriage license, it's not going to happen."

"Castle. If you just tell the jury the truth-"

"In this city?" He snorted and shook his head. "I don't trust the system any longer, Kate. And without people like you willing to listen, to be open-minded - what chance do we have with the truth?"

Her chest tightened at the jaded catch in his voice. But he was right; she didn't have faith that she'd get out of this. The way the Dragon's organization was set up, the moment he fell, she should've known they'd be coming after her next. Retaliation. Vengeance. Poetic justice.

"Castle," she said quietly, turning her head to look at him. Really look at him, and make him look at her. "This would be a mistake."

"No," he said, reaching out to grab her hand. "Wait. Just listen to the plan." He looked desperate, and she knew he was going crazy because all his money was barely making a dent in the terror their lives had been plunged into. But he couldn't - he couldn't marry her to help her case; he'd put a target on his back if he did.

"Castle-"

"First. If we're married, they can't compel my testimony. So I'm not-" He gritted his teeth and gave the lawyer a grimace. "I'm not dragged into a court case. Minimize the negative publicity."

Oh.

"Second. If something should happen to me, you'd have access to the money you'd need to fight this-"

"If something should happen to you?" She clutched him tighter, suddenly afraid he was planning some crazy scheme, and he couldn't, he really just couldn't do that to her, not when she was stuck in here and unable to have his back.

The lawyer cleared his throat. "Mr. Castle has received death threats."

"_What?_" She stared at Castle, her heart pounding. "Castle. From - from them? From his group?"

He looked furious; his eyes cut to the lawyer. "I said we wouldn't tell her that."

"I'm her lawyer. This is in her best interest to know."

"Castle," she hissed, squeezing his hand until he looked at her. "Do not keep things from me. God, you can't keep things from me. I have to trust you. You're the only one-"

"No. Not - Kate." He leaned in and wrapped his fingers around her neck, tugged her against him. The guard outside tapped on the safety glass, and Castle had to let go - no hands around the neck. He looked like he wanted to do damage.

"Tell me," she insisted.

"Mr. Castle has been threatened with his life and the life of his family if he doesn't testify against you."

"_God, _Castle-"

"I'm not doing it," he growled, his hand coming to her knee and squeezing too hard. She felt the pounding of her blood under his fingers and tried to keep from blacking out. She didn't want him to know, but - this - her knee was on fire-

"Castle," she rasped, knocked his hand away, her head bowing to the table.

"Kate? Oh damn. Kate, what-" He crowded in close and brushed his fingers through her short hair. "Your knee? What happened to your knee?"

She shook her head and fought through it. "You first. The death threats. You have to testify."

"Marry me. Damn it, Kate. _Marry me."_

"No," she ground out. "You have to keep Alexis safe. Yourself safe. You-"

"I'm not doing it," he yelled at her, chest heaving. "You can't - Kate Beckett, I can_not_ be the one to send you to prison. Don't you know that? The death penalty in on the table, Kate. The death penalty."

"Alexis-"

"I've already talked to Alexis. She's got security; she's in med schoool; she has her own life - this was her decision too."

Oh God, Alexis. She swallowed hard and buried her head in her hands.

"Can you give us a minute?" Castle said, and she felt the lawyer remove himself, put some distance between them. The best he could do.

She was used to no longer having privacy.

She felt his hand come up to her cheek, the stroke of his fingers. "Kate."

"Castle, you can't ask me to endanger your life either," she whispered, lifting her eyes to him.

"I was going to ask you to marry me. That night. I had the ring in my pocket."

Oh God. Oh God, she could weep.

"I had it all planned out. I didn't do it at the restaurant because you'd said one time that it had to be intimate, not public. And then we walked home and I almost asked you a hundred times, but I thought I should do it at home-"

"Rick," she keened, leaning into his shoulder.

He kept speaking, his mouth at her ear. "We got to the lobby; I put my hand in my pocket to touch the box and all I could do was watch you. I'm so honored you love me, so grateful to love you back, Kate. It was all in my mouth to say - I was about to just chuck the plan and go for it there in the lobby when they came."

She couldn't stop the tears, renegade drops that soaked his shirt. She took in a hitching breath and smelled him - the clean scent, the sharp aftershave, and the sweat. When she closed her eyes she could still feel that night in his lobby, his hand in hers, that beautifully sweet look on his face as his eyes had adored her.

He'd been about to propose.

But she'd been arrested.

"I'm sorry it has to be now instead of then," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. But, Kate, I want to marry you. I've wanted to marry you for years."

"I don't want your life to be in danger," she whispered, even though she ached for it. Ached for him. To have him, claim him.

"Kate, love, my life is already in danger. You are my life."


	2. Chapter 2

**Unvanquished**

* * *

She sat in her cell in the Administrative Segregation block of Bayview Women's Prison. Bedford Hills Correctional Facility would be next, if she made it that far - maximum security. She didn't expect the trial to go her way, but she also didn't expect to make it to Bedford Hills alive either.

She'd married him.

Tears spilled down her face and she ruthlessly chewed the inside of her cheek to suppress them. She turned her back to the door and swiped at her eyes, staring hard at the wall opposite her bunk.

She'd not been given bail. The DA had argued she was a flight risk because Castle had the money and means to get her out of the country, and even when her lawyer had offered up her passport and herself for house arrest, it hadn't been enough.

Beckett was pretty certain this had been the plan all along.

One morning, a guard would wake her up with orders for Beckett to be transferred back to general population. She'd stand her ground - she'd try to argue it - solitary confinement was for her own protection - but in the end, the guard would take her from the relative safety of AdSeg and put her back in the mix.

It was minimum security here, a lot more freedom of movement between the prisoners. The papers would be forged, come to find out, but by then, Beckett would be beaten to death in her four-person cell or her throat slit as she came out of the bathrooms.

She knew how this went.

She'd married him.

She was going to make him a widower.

* * *

Her lawyer handed her a note that afternoon during their meeting.

_Amy and Greg._

It was from him, and it was was supposed to give her hope, but it only made her panic.

He could not - he could _not_ - be planning to break her out of jail.

* * *

Her knee stiffened so badly that Simmons had to carry her through the hall and down to the first aid room. The nurse probed her knee cap and took an x-ray. Just severe bruising, some sprain to the ligaments most likely.

She was given a soft brace and her time outside was doubled for physical therapy. The sun against the top of her head made her heart struggle in her chest, like a dove thrashing in a net.

She smothered it.

* * *

Visiting hours were from 9 until 2 on Saturdays, but Castle was here on Sunday afternoon - again - and he had a look in his eyes she'd didn't like. It made her stomach twist.

The safety glass between them was smeared with a thousand handprints, but Rick pressed his forearm to the glass, his fingertips framing the line of her face, and he leaned in close, his eyes making love to her.

She waited half a beat, her body rigid in the chair, and then she picked up the orange phone on her side and put it to her ear, smelling the unwashed sweat of all the incarcerated women before her.

"Kate," he breathed.

She closed her eyes against the beauty of his face, struggled to nail down her emotions, every last one of them, pin them to the floor if she couldn't kill them outright.

"Kate."

The strength of his voice, the _all will be well_ of his tone made her eyes flare open.

His fingers stroked the glass and she could feel him, skin to skin, as if there was nothing between them at all.

* * *

She was taken during the night.

(That was the refrain of her life, for all of her life: _she was taken during the night_. Her mother, Beckett herself in Castle's lobby, and now again here.)

She roused, her mouth thick with nightmares, and found she was being hustled out of the door and down the long hall, faces pressed to safety glass, down another hall that led to the general population crowd, and Beckett - for the first time in two weeks - thought she was going to die.

But Simmons directed her away from the still locked door; Beckett could see through the bars to the curfew-lights-out rows of cell after cell of women.

She had no idea what form her enemy might take, but she knew where it came from.

And she was being led away from there.

She stumbled against Simmons and the guard jerked back, alert and on watch immediately, but Beckett only winced and rubbed at her knee cap slowly, tried to shake out the lingering cramp that seized her from time to time.

"Move, Beckett," Simmons ordered, though not roughly. Never unkind, really. They did their jobs, made it as endurable as possible, and went home to their families.

Beckett kept moving.

When - at the end of this new hall - Simmons unlocked a white, opaque door with no window, Beckett did begin to think - once again - this was it.

She took a breath outside the door, but Simmons would not go inside; instead, she nudged Beckett and there was - was that a faint smile?

She'd thought Simmons _liked_ her, and now-

Oh.

Oh God.

Castle.

* * *

While Kate stayed stunned in the threshold, the door closed behind her and pushed her into the room. Castle, anxious and eager to please standing there alone, came towards her with a yearning smile on his face.

It smelled like industrial chemicals. The kind that Sunshine Cleaners used when they came in after the Forensics team at a crime scene. Of bodily fluids heavily masked and expertly scrubbed away. With a wrenching of her heart, she realized it reminded her of Lanie.

Castle was nearly before her now. She would not let herself step closer. She couldn't. This - it had to be a dream?

His hands on her face then, his mouth over hers, and the wet heat swallowed her up in a moment. She moaned and his tongue raced inside, forceful and demanding and everything she needed, everything; he was everything.

Oh.

_Conjugal visit._

She broke apart then, the poorly-constructed plaster around her spirit crumbled to dust and she bit into his kiss with the force of demolition, felt him wrap his arms around her on a grunt that shot electricity down her spine and curled in her belly.

"Kate," he growled.

"Yes, yes," she agreed, anything, nothing else, all of it.

He pressed his fingers into her hips on a frustrated groan, tugged her away even as he licked at the slide of her neck. "I wanted-" He scraped his teeth over her jugular; she straddled his thigh. "Wanted to romance you-"

"Fuck it." He was _here_; she wanted _him._

He laughed, breathless, and brought his head up to look at her, all wary want in his eyes like fathomless wells. "Ahh, yes, we will. But look-"

He nudged her to the side, but he didn't let go. His hand laced through hers and this wasn't acceptable at all; she needed him to press her body against that damn door she came in through and _have at it_-

Oh. Oh there was a bed.

"You brought - brought sheets from home," her voice cracked and she turned her face into his neck.

"Oh God, don't cry. If you cry, I won't be able to do all those dirty things to you I've been dreaming about for the last four months."

She laughed at that, sharp and brittle, but it did the job. She licked at his neck, tasting salty anxiety and the musk of arousal on her tongue. "You smell good."

"Yeah, but did I do good?" he groused back, hands at her elbows now to pull her closer.

She rolled her hips against him, gasped when he slid his knee between her thighs in retaliation. His palm was hot at her lower back, pressing, and she caved inward, clutching his shirt with her fists as he set her hips to his rhythm.

"So good," she stuttered back, an open mouth at his dress shirt, her tongue soaking the material until she could feel the warmth of his chest beneath.

His other hand came to her hip, slid back along her thigh to steady her, fingers tight in her muscle.

She got to work on his buttons, finally managed to press her lips to his bare skin, the hot, sharp burst of his heartbeat against her.

"I love you," he whispered, and the hitch in his voice could be sorrow, but it could also be arousal.

She willed herself to believe the latter and sucked at his chest, teeth catching the line of his pec as he rocked her hips against him. His hand travelled, his mouth nudged her temple, skated hot breath against her cheek, found her lips for a messy kiss.

Her body sang out.

* * *

He stroked his fingers down her knee, lightly, inspecting the damage while she slept/recovered in bed. They'd turned off the overhead lights, their harsh fluorescents, but a blue light shown around the cracks in the doors from both hallways - the one she'd come in through, and the one he'd entered by as well.

Her knee, even in the half-light, was slightly swollen and black at the edges. Probably only a deep purple, but it looked bad. She'd trembled when he'd wrapped his hand behind her knee to pull her in tighter against him, but she hadn't let him stop to ask, to wonder, to grieve. She'd found him and pulled him in, and he'd been lost to anything other than the sharp fire of her.

Castle slid back up her body and lay at her side, tunneling an arm under her neck carefully until he could curl her up into him. She came easily, and if he closed his eyes, they were back at the loft, a Friday night spent at home, her breathing altered because of him but sated now and restful.

They'd had a life together. It had been good.

Her fingers flexed against his chest, began to roam.

He grinned to feel it and opened his eyes. But it was blue darkness and not the golden amber of city night outside his room, and the smile fell away, broken and unfit.

Her fingers swirled at his belly button; her body shifted. "This is why you married me?"

He let out a puff of air, laughter or disconcertion he couldn't be sure, and curled his arm to bring her mouth close to his. "Access to your hot body? Definitely. I've been feeling deprived, Beckett."

Something in it didn't sit right with her; he could feel it in her hesitation, the tension she tried to mask with a slide of her thigh against his, but he stopped her with a light touch to her hip.

"What," he breathed out. "Tell me."

She shook her head and opened her mouth instead to nurse his bottom lip.

"Tell me so I can make it right, make it go away."

"Don't call me Beckett," she said in a rush, sliding over on top of him in all her amazing glory, her hands at his chest. She looked all and entirely Beckett in that moment, and he had no idea why, but he'd never do it again.

"Kate."

She nodded and dipped her head down to press a kiss to his eyebrow, to the center of his forehead, down the wide slant of his nose.

"Kate here," she murmured against him. "Beckett out there. Kate here. With you."

Out there-? Oh. In _prison_.

Shit. Oh God, _his wife_, his wife-

Even as she laced their fingers together, arms stretched to either side, even as she pushed down against him, held him there, she was still being kept, _caged_.

Kate was in prison.


	3. Chapter 3

**Unvanquished**

* * *

He cradled the glass separating them and brushed his thumb under where the dark circle at her eye would be - if he could touch her for real - but he felt cold. "Aren't you taking the pills?" he whispered, cracks running through his heart.

She shook her head, the phone pressed to her ear, listening but not participating.

"Kate, love, you need sleep." She looked like death. Beautiful, pain-filled death. He leaned his forehead against the safety glass between them and tried not to cry. "Please take the sleeping pills. Please."

"Okay." It was dragged out of her - involuntarily, he could tell - but it worked.

He lifted his gaze to her, felt somewhat reassured to see the real woman there in her eyes, the one he'd not been able to find lately.

"Kate, I love you. I need you to not - not give up-"

"I haven't," she said, her voice strong on the phone, but some of that lifelessness returning to her eyes. "I won't. This is just - what it takes to survive."

Oh God, oh God, he wanted her out of there.

* * *

Jim settled down into the bench seat across from Rick. The diner was busier than Castle had expected for the mid-afternoon, but a waitress came over quickly and took Jim's order.

Castle thought that Kate must take after her father - Jim wasn't eating much either: coffee and a grapefruit.

Jim cleared his throat and gave Castle a long look. "So you married her."

"She married me," Castle said, but shook his head and rubbed a hand down his face. "Something. At least we did something to stop this - I couldn't testify against her, no matter what."

"Well, not now, thank God." Jim was drawing his finger up and down the serrated edge of the knife in his silverware set.

"I'm glad you thought of it," Castle said. "But no, I didn't tell her it was your idea."

"Thank you," Jim said quietly. "I hope it's enough."

"She said you were good," Castle said in a rush. "She said you were good, and I believe her."

"I wish Johanna were here. This was her thing - she was amazing at criminal defense. She'd know exactly what we should do next. She'd have a battle plan already drawn up and you'd know she was right, that she would win. You never doubted she could do it."

"Sounds like Kate," he whispered back, stunned by the fierce longing in him for that woman as well - Johanna Beckett - who, if she were alive, might be able to get Kate out of this. "Though, of course, if she were here - none of this would be happening. Or at least not to us. Some other family destroyed by him, but not this one."

Jim raised startled eyes to Castle. "Well, son, I do believe you're right. And you - would you have ever met my daughter?"

"I'd like to think so - she wanted to be a lawyer and I've needed plenty," he tried for a smile but it ached. "Even so. I'd change it all, everything, if it meant she wasn't on trial for her life. I'd give her up in second."

And he would. Oh God, he would do anything-

"I know you would," Jim said thickly, and then leaned back as the waitress came with their orders. Castle glanced down at his plate - eggs and toast - and his stomach churned; he was going to vomit. He couldn't do this.

Jim's hand came down over his, a quick squeeze, and for some reason, it helped. He could take a deeper breath, he could feel his chest ease. Kate believed in her father; Castle believed in Kate.

"You have any ideas about her case?" Castle said finally.

"A few. How's her lawyer taking my advice?"

"He does what I tell him to. I'm paying him enough."

"Good. Then we need a change of venue."

* * *

Weldon leaned back in the armchair in front of Castle's fireplace and swirled his glass. Castle couldn't start drinking; he'd never stop.

"Not the mayor anymore, Rick."

Castle scrubbed a hand down his face, tried to tamp down the overwhelming sense of panic. "I know. I had hoped you might have - one last favor. Something."

"I got nothing," the man said, shaking his head. He took a long sip of the whiskey Castle had poured for him, and then he gave the other man a sorrowed look. "I liked her."

"Don't you fucking _dare _use the past tense," Castle growled, shooting up to his feet and walking off. He pressed his fists into his eye sockets and dug in hard, stopped in the hallway as the words echoed and died in his loft.

"Rick."

Shit. Shit, no. Not - there was still hope. There was - he was _not_ giving up on her. He worked so damn hard to get her, it took them so long, and she was crazy amazing and desperately gorgeous and so scarily intelligent - she remembered everything, like those damn elephants - and there was no way in hell he was saying good-bye to that _now._

"I'll ask again. The mayor could - you never know - he could decide to pardon her on his own-"

"I don't want it to come to that," Castle shot back, pacing into the the room again and finally meeting Weldon's eyes. "It can't come to that. She can't be found guilty. She can't go to trial. She is not going to survive another week in that place."

"I'll ask around. I'll - I really got nothing, though, Rick. No one wants to be seen with me. I'm political suicide."

"That was their whole plan, wasn't it?" he said bitterly, slumping down into the extra armchair. "Get you out of office so there's no protection for either of us. Me or Kate. Kick me out of the 12th; set Kate up for murder."

"Might be right."

"They want her dead."

"They have for a long time, but Rick - it's not the old guard you need to be worried about. They're out. Dragon's dead. Someone in his organization just staged a violent coup."

"And Kate's going down for it."

"Might have been the new Grand Dragon's plan all along."

"Grand Dragon? Jeez, it's like the Klan has set up in New York City."

"Nope," Weldon disagreed, pointing a finger at Castle over the rim of his glass. "This group - they're equal opportunity, Rick. They'll kill you just as easily as they'll bury Kate. So watch your back."

* * *

Her lawyer called.

"Warden called me. Kate's been taken to Beth Israel in Chelsea."

"What?" Castle jerked to his feet, spilling cereal across the counter. Alexis only looked at him, her eyes riveted to his.

"She didn't report for roll call. They found her unconscious this morning. She's in their care unit."

"I'm on my way over."

He hung up without waiting for the lawyer's agreement; he knew he wouldn't be getting it. Alexis, who had decided to stay with him until - until whatever happened happened, wiped down the counter with a sponge and dropped it in the sink.

"Go, Dad."

"They won't let me in," he said back, even as he was struggling into his shoes, shoving his arms into his coat, checking his pockets for cash, ID, phone.

Alexis handed him his keys at the door. "Make them."

His skittering heart settled. "Yeah," he said, swallowing. "I will."

* * *

"Let me in there _right now._"

The guard outside Kate's door watched him with a hand on his gun, but Castle didn't care. He listened to the warden's voice over the phone and gnashed his teeth, turned and pressed his forehead into the wall.

"No. You listen to me. From day one, she has been treated like shit. She is a cop, and you know what they're doing to her in there. What happened to innocent until proven otherwise? She was beat within an inch of her life six weeks ago, and now she's in the fucking hospital. I don't care what you have to do, but you will let me see her or so help me God, I will sue every last one of you."

Castle turned and his eyes fell on the guard; he listened to the moment of silence and then the warden told him to hand his phone over to Davis.

Davis took Castle's phone, nodded as he listened, then gave it back.

"Fifteen minutes."

Finally.

To have come so close only to lose her now-

* * *

Kate lifted her heavy eyes at the touch, a touch so adoring and gentle and heart-breaking. Castle. He was here.

"Castle," she rasped, tried to clear her head. Everything was muffled, so heavy, like being underwater, deep, the pressure mounting.

"Oh, Kate. Kate, love, I thought - I was afraid it was too much." He buried his face against her neck and she sucked in a shallow breath of his scent, fresh from home, and felt the tears choke up in her eyes. He smelled like their bed, like breakfast and milk, like that lingering touch of his daughter.

"This was you," she murmured into his ear. "You did this."

"Amy and Greg," he said softly, his lips feathering the skin at her neck. "I told you."

"I don't - you can't do this," she moaned, but she couldn't find the energy, the strength to lift a finger let alone stop the tear streaking down her cheek.

"Too late. Already set in motion, Kate." His mouth at her jaw, coasting along her lips, light touches. He brushed his fingers at her ear and dried the tears that had rolled back.

"Castle-" she keened.

"The change of venue was denied. Markway recused himself. We've got no other options, Kate."

She shook her head, tried to breathe deeper, tried to _wake up._ This was important. "I won't take them. You can't make me take the pills from outside."

"God, Beckett. Don't do that to me."

She moaned and managed to curl her arm around his neck, hanging on, trying not to shatter into a thousand unsalvageable pieces.

He was going to kill her.

And then he was going to bring her back from the dead.

Only she didn't know if she could hang on long enough for it to work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Unvanquished**

* * *

She realized her leg was jittery, foot tapping violently up and down and shaking the whole bench. Beckett pressed her palm to her knee, let the pain sharpen into awareness; she stopped rocking the lunch table.

A dirty look thrown her way, the scuffle of feet heading her direction; Beckett kept her head down.

Today was Wednesday - banana pudding. She'd already pushed hers off onto the tray of the leader of the White Power group; she had nothing left to bargain with. Milk, but she'd sucked that down in line before it could be taken from her. She needed it; her wrist bones were so prominent that she was scaring herself.

Castle's dosage was way off because of it. He had no idea how much weight she'd lost. Mornings were a battle; she felt like she was drowning.

Lunch, but she was still draggy, still found it hard to keep her eyes open. She was having trouble controlling her body, having trouble sensing the attacks before they came.

Solitary was only so solitary.

A cough at one end of the table was her only warning.

The food fight erupted.

She caught the fist before it landed in her solar plexus, managed to flip her assailant over her own arm and to the floor. Beckett scrambled off the bench at the lunch table and tripped over the woman, went to her knees.

Pain lanced straight up into her hip; she gritted her teeth and chewed furiously on the inside of her lip, sparked enough blood to bring her body back into focus.

The kick was high, but Kate got a forearm up in time, trapped the foot and twisted. A sweeping kick at her back brought her down again; she pushed off the floor and rolled under the table, out the other side.

A hand in her shirt yanked her on her feet; White Power was grinning in her face. "Hey, Pudding."

Beckett brought both hands up and clapped the sides of the woman's face, felt her grip loosen, elbowed her way free and ducked around the woman. She made for the far end of the cafeteria where the guard was pointedly not looking her way.

Wednesday. She'd forgotten. Simmons was off rotation today. Shit, she was screwed.

Beckett hit the chain link surrounding the cafeteria, put her back to it, and stood her ground.

* * *

Locke rotated her shoulder slowly; Beckett hissed and dropped her head back to the exam table.

The nurse shook her head and clucked. _Clucked._

Beckett wanted out of here.

"I need a cortisone shot," she gasped, willing away tears. The pain was - it was going to be manageable.

"You think so, huh?" Locke's fingers probed the swelling.

"I know so. I've had an injury like this before. In training."

"Right. You're the one who was a cop."

Beckett kept her eyes tightly shut, as if not seeing the look of judgmental disdain on the nurse's face would somehow mean it wasn't there.

"Please. A cortisone shot." She ground her teeth and kicked her heel against the exam table as Locke lifted Beckett's arm. The woman was a sadist.

"Let me finish the exam, and then we'll see."

Beckett kept her mouth shut.

* * *

When the duty prisoner shoved her dinner tray into the slot, the milk sloshed. Beckett slurped the little white pool from the empty utensil spot, then stuck her thumb in the mashed potatoes and searched through the creamy mess until she could be sure.

She ate the mashed potatoes with two fingers and eyed the sleeping pill in its white paper cup.

Castle was getting the doses wrong, but she-

He was right. There was no other choice.

She wouldn't make it six more months. And once the trial started, she figured that might be another three months, since it was high-profile.

And then they'd convict her; she was certain of that. Maybe maximum security would be better - less likely for her to be beaten to death by an inmate who had her number. But she wouldn't _make_ it to find out.

Beckett fiddled with the pill for a moment longer, and then she popped it into her mouth and swallowed it down with the milk. She blinked at the overhead light and crushed the paper cup in her fist.

She used her thumb to push down on the mystery meat, felt the sting of it against her skin, basically undetectable if she hadn't been looking for it.

Glass. Ground glass.

They really, _really_ wanted her dead.

* * *

Simmons didn't look at her as she led Beckett to the visitors' phones. Beckett straightened her shoulders and tried to figure out who-

Oh God.

She stopped in her tracks and got a sharp elbow in her bruised ribs for it; Simmons was playing rough because of the eyes on them. Beckett jolted forward and sank into the seat across the glass from Esposito.

She stared at him and he motioned for her to pick up the phone.

Beckett swallowed hard and lifted the receiver, refused to look at him again. "You need to leave."

"Listen to me."

"It is _dangerous_ for you to be here."

"I wouldn't let Ryan come, and he's pissed off at me, so you are damn well going to listen to me."

"Call my lawyer. Talk to him." She moved to put the phone back in the cradle, but Esposito banged on the glass, startling her so badly she flinched.

"Beckett. Beckett, put the phone to your ear. Beckett."

She risked it, took a glance over at him.

Shit. Shit, she'd made him cry.

Beckett put the phone to her ear and steeled her face; Esposito cleared his throat and rubbed at his forehead, hiding his eyes. She said nothing.

"You know I'm in Gangs now?"

She nodded; he had to lift his head to look at her and when he did, she tried a smile. "Good fit for you Javi."

"Vice Lords accepted a bid."

"Yeah?" But she knew this already, didn't she? She'd seen it in the eyes of her fellow prisoners yesterday at lunch. "I expect the NLR did too."

"Yeah," he said heavily. "Shit. Nazi Low Riders - they already came for you?"

"Javi. Don't tell a word of this to Castle."

"You know I can't do that. Ryan's already told him."

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, tried to fight the wave of despair that crested over her. She did _not_ want Rick to know. Not this, not one more thing.

"You know how big a contract you got?"

She shook her head.

"Five hundred thousand."

Her eyes startled open at that; her breath was gone, sucker-punched, and she stared at her former partner.

"Oh God."

"We need to get you the hell outta there, Beckett."

* * *

Tonight there was something in the milk; Beckett didn't know if it was bodily fluids or something truly harmful, but she attempted to swallow the sleeping pill dry.

Of course, she then proceeded to vomit it back up again - empty stomach. Beckett growled at herself and slammed her hand into the floor, got up off her knees and headed for the door. She called for the guard and was relieved to find Simmons on duty.

The guard left to call maintenance, then came back and slipped her a piece of bread; she seemed to understand that nothing on the tray was edible. Kate fished the pill out of the mess and tried again. Stayed down this time.

Simmons warned her to head for the back of the cell and Beckett jumped to her feet, turned away from the door, hands spread at her sides. She was then cuffed to the ring in the floor by the bed while someone from the custodial crew cleaned up.

With the last swipe of the mop, something skittered her direction. As the custodian turned his back and momentarily blocked her from the camera, Beckett swiped it up and palmed it, her heart beating too hard.

When the guard came back in and uncuffed her, Beckett brought both hands up to her chest and rubbed at her chafed wrists. She had only a moment, but she worked the thing down her sports bra.

It felt like a note.

* * *

She was being shaken awake; her head throbbed and her mouth was dry. She couldn't move.

"Beckett. On your feet."

She tried to untangle her legs, but they wouldn't work. When she tried to turn, her body resisted, her arm flopped; she couldn't feel it. She was being rolled. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

It took everything in her power to suck in a breath; this was not right. Not how it was supposed to go.

"Beckett. Get up. Roll call."

It was so heavy. Her body was sinking. She couldn't undrown.

She let the breath out of her lungs, and it went on and on forever out.

* * *

The yard was too bright; Beckett tried to shade her eyes with her hand but the light cracked through. The note was still in her bra; it was the first thing she checked when she woke finally and could move.

This time they had not taken her to the hospital; they'd kept her in the first aid station on her cell block.

Dangerous. Very dangerous. Castle was getting the doses wrong - someone was anyway. Her body weight was considerably less and her anxiety was higher; it must be affecting her metabolism. She was finding it harder and harder to shake off the effects every day.

It was already four in the afternoon and she'd just woken up. Locke had sent her outside for yard exercises for her knee, but no one was watching. She couldn't do exercises now if her life depended on it.

Beckett bent over to massage her joint and pulled the note from her bra; her fingers were slick with sweat.

Rolled up, notebook paper, (_oh, God, the scent of home, of her home with him_) written in pencil-

in Alexis's hand:

_Wednesday._


	5. Chapter 5

**Unvanquished**

* * *

Saturday. He shifted in the orange plastic seat and pressed his sweaty palms to the counter. His eyes searched the glass for her, but she hadn't shown up yet.

Would she? She hadn't seemed pleased with his idea, and he couldn't spend the time to explain it to her because she was monitored all the time, constantly, and all he had were cryptic clues to give her.

He squeezed a hand into a fist and glanced down at the counter. She had to - he needed her to-

He needed her.

A tap on the glass had him glancing up; she was standing but leaning heavily against the partition, her eyes drugged, her fingers curled at the glass. She sank down into the seat in front of him. His heart raced and he picked up the phone, saw her hang on the receiver for a moment before she could cradle it against her shoulder.

"Castle," she got out, and even though it wasn't slurred, the heaviness in each syllable, the effort to enunciate made his fists clench again.

"Hey, hey, love." He felt hope flicker to life inside his chest and he leaned eagerly forward, his palm to the glass, as close as he could get. "It's working. Thank you. God, thank you."

Her eyes were dark, accusing pools; she was barely hanging on.

"I know. Okay, I know," he said, fighting off the fluttering of panic in his guts at seeing her like this. Her cheekbones were so pronounced that slashes of dark shadow narrowed her face to a sharp point. Her mouth was thinned, her hair limp. He knew the pills would do this, knew it was a process, getting her body prepped for the final, lethal dose while establishing an official, medical pattern to her eventual demise, but this was harsher than he'd expected.

"Too much," she groaned. She lifted her arm to the glass and the naked skeleton of the skin over her bones made him suddenly see all of her, everything she hid in the orange jumpsuit, and the scarecrow effect made him half-rise in his chair.

"Kate. God, Kate - you're way too thin - why aren't you eating? What the hell-"

"Gotta s-stop, can't do it," she whispered into the phone.

He clutched at the line, sank back into his seat, rocking forward to whisper intently at her. "You have to. You have to. I know, I'll try to make it right, but you have to, Kate. Please."

The doses - if the doses were wrong, she'd go into cardiac arrest before he had it all ready, but oh God, oh God, there was no way to get those pills _back - _

_it was already too late._

* * *

He'd gone to the public library and did his searching there; he wasn't entirely stupid. A lifetime of writing crime novels and so-called perfect murder scenarios had geared his brain to thinking craftily, and what felt like a lifetime of being on Beckett's team had given him the ins and outs of police procedure.

He'd discovered that while the list of non-extradition countries was long, it was also consistent of those which the CIA's World Factbook deemed dangerous or unsafe traveling conditions. He debated Ivory Coast and even Nepal and the United Arab Emirates, since those countries were friendly and beautiful as well, but what it came down to was the idea of living with a mystery woman (Beckett) in semi-seclusion as himself was infinitely more appealing that going on the run.

Beckett could speak a few languages, he knew that, and he was tempted by Russia mightily, but he'd ask her about that first - after he'd spent a week pampering her in his chalet in the Swiss Alps.

Okay, no that was a dream. He didn't have a chalet. But he could get one easily, and Alexis was slated for her semester abroad as part of the medical school program, so they'd all see each other fairly regularly. He wanted to believe that not much had to change.

He was starting to believe this was going to work, even with his limited fame haunting them, and her spectacular alleged crime.

He was starting to believe it might actually happen.

Kate Beckett was going to die in that prison or else - well, she was going to die in that prison. His way or theirs.

* * *

He brought sheets and that ratty silk thing she loved so much - a robe at one time, surely, but now it was so thin that it barely did a thing to hide her from him. No belt; they wouldn't let him bring that in.

He stood awkwardly just inside the prison side's doorway, then came to sit on the bed, then stood up again to wait for her in the middle of the room, and then he moved back towards the bed but the door opened.

She stumbled into him and clung, her fingers like talons in his biceps, her face against his chest as tears seeped out of her eyes.

"Rick," she breathed and her voice was thready, her heart erratic and jagged in her neck as her pulse thumped against his skin. Her fingers skated his stomach even as she cried, her hands at his jeans.

"Kate, no, love, you're-"

"Dying, one way or another. I want you. Please don't say no to me."

His heart tripped at the word and he caved around her, biting down on his lip to keep from sobbing her name, trying to keep it together. "Never, never say no to you."

"I can't believe you're doing this," she murmured, so weak even now, so thready. He'd never imagined she could be made fragile, but she was fragile.

"Wasn't supposed to work this fast," he mouthed at her jaw, could feel with his tongue how her bones were jutting at her paper-thin skin. "Why are you so - why aren't you eating, Kate? God. You're emaciated."

She grunted at him and shook her head.

"Kate. Baby, please. Please eat."

"Can't. Stuff in it. Bad stuff in it."

The terror of her statement - the worst part? He had no idea if it was true, or if it was the paranoia of the pills.

He cradled her skull to his chest and closed his eyes to it, pressed her too-thin body against his and prayed for miracles.

* * *

Her pelvis jutted sharply into the line of his sight, but he suckled at their fierce curves with his mouth, scraping his teeth against bone. She arched weakly, but her thighs clutched at his shoulders, squeezing, and he had to press his palms into her legs and hold her down.

Her hands drew designs along his back, her body propped up against the wall behind the bed as he mouthed her belly button. She clutched at his skin and he nuzzled the crease of her leg, brushed a gentle kiss there.

She sobbed and he glanced up, but her eyes were wide and dilated, her mouth open on a breathlessness that was beautiful and abandoned. He skated his palms up her side, spread his hands over her ribs, his fingers and thumbs taking up the entire width of her body. He brushed the stubble of his cheek against her and she bucked against him.

He grinned and heard Kate hiss at him to get moving already, but he wanted to take his time with her, give her everything and make her want all the more.

He wanted to replace the edge of fear in her eyes with the edge of fire - the way he could make her catch, and burn, and flame in the night.

"Love me, Castle, love me, love me-"

"I do, I already do," he murmured and sucked a kiss against her skin, drew his hands back down her torso.

She'd told him - _God_ - she'd told him a few months before all this, in the midst of all their heat, she'd told him, _I want to have this._ And he'd spread his palms along her belly like this and she'd cradled his hands there, and that's when he had known.

He'd bought the ring the next day, and then he'd wasted time, carrying it around for a magic moment that had never come.

She wrapped her fingers around his ears and forced him to look at her. He was having trouble breathing through the grief clogging his chest. She pressed one of her hands over his at her stomach, laced their fingers together, and drew his hand up to her mouth, kissing his palm.

He stared into her eyes, her eyes so aroused but lovely and mourning for him. "Rick. Don't stop now - I want it too, even still. But first-"

"First all this," he murmured, and knew he was crying but he couldn't help it.

He lowered his mouth to her and made sure to make her cry out, make her sob with it, make her _Kate _and not Beckett.

Make her forget here and hope for there.

* * *

He traced the lines on her back, hovering over her; they had so little time. The edges of her ribs poked harshly into his hand, made her skin look brittle. He could map out every ridge of her spine, vertebra by vertebra, in a train down her back.

She was watching him, her cheek pressed to her arm, her eyes too large in her face. He feathered a kiss to her shoulder blade, brushing his lips across the shadow of the valley of her spine to linger at her other scapula.

Her hand came up to curl awkwardly around his head, her fingers smoothing his cheek, his eyebrow, thumb nudging his lips. He kissed her palm, shifted to lie down at her side so he could memorize her face with the tips of his fingers.

She watched him, her eyes hungry and needy, asking him for promises he would gladly make but wasn't sure he'd be able to keep.

Even still.

He curled his palm at her cheek and leaned in, breathing her breath, sharing every tremble of his heart and feeling hers as well.

"Kate."

She moved then, crawled right up against him, on him, curled so tightly around him that her skin began to absorb his, her pulse picked up his beat, and he hoped, he prayed that she lasted, that she held out just a little bit longer.

"Two more days," she murmured at his throat.


	6. Chapter 6

**Unvanquished**

* * *

Beckett groaned and backed away blindly, an arm lifted to protect her head.

The quick blow to her ribs had her vision blacking again, her breath caught in the shredded remnants of her guts. Beckett lashed out with a foot, connected with a knee, heard her assailant go down.

She lifted from her crouch only to double over once more, unable to straighten. She tasted blood and swiped at the trickle down the left side of her face, rubbed it out of her eyes. She saw the woman writhing in the floor at her feet and slid farther away, her back to the wall.

Beckett sank down on her haunches a good ten feet from the woman, pressed her head between her knees to keep from blacking out.

Simmons came looking for her, thank God. Simmons.

The guard called it in, her hand on Beckett's head, keeping her down until two more guards hustled past, heading for the woman who'd attacked her outside of the library.

When they'd hauled the prisoner away, Simmons hefted Beckett to her feet.

"Can't take you to the infirmary," the guard grunted, bearing most of her weight. "First aid room on your cell block."

Beckett said nothing, let the guard whisk her down the hall, but her feet dragged and tangled them up.

"Stand up and walk, Beckett, or else I'll have to dump you in infirmary. And you know you that crew won't let you out alive. Your boyfriend would have my ass."

Her - what?

She shot dazed look to Simmons, trying to battle back the rising blackness.

Her boyfriened.

Castle. Castle was bribing Simmons.

Oh God, it all made sense now.

* * *

Locke forced the pill down her throat and massaged her neck until Beckett swallowed. Panic clawed up her guts and latched its claws around her heart.

Within seconds, psychosomatic or not, Beckett couldn't feel her feet; her hands were tingling painfully. She struggled against it, knew it was a terrible, terrible idea to take that pill when she most likely had a concussion, maybe more.

Her throat closed up, the air only making it through a narrow channel down into her lungs. She sucked in a breath, had to do it again to keep from passing out, but she couldn't get enough oxygen. Her palms began to sweat.

Locke hovered over her, then said something garbled to Simmons. Beckett tried to move, tried to stay awake, but it was too late; her body was useless.

Simmons. Locke then too. Both in on it - Castle's plan. Could they possibly know? They couldn't know, or else Castle wasn't thinking clearly. Too many witnesses, too many questions and-

Oh God, she couldn't keep breathing, couldn't survive this one.

"What's happening to her?"

"Get the crash cart."

No good, no good - she couldn't hang on. She couldn't keep her heart beating.

Not even for him.

* * *

Tuesday night and the phone call scared the shit out of him.

"Mr. Castle - she's been admitted to Beth Israel-"

"Again," he gasped. His heart stuttered and he checked the calendar on his laptop even as he got to his feet.

Tuesday. It was Tuesday.

It wasn't ready. It was too soon.

"Mr. Castle. Listen to me. It doesn't look good. She's in a coma."

Oh God. Oh God. It's Tuesday.

* * *

"What the hell have they done to her?" Lanie fumed, tears coursing down her cheeks.

"Lanie," he groaned, clutching her arm. He couldn't tell her, couldn't, he did not _dare_ tell her but oh God, he wasn't sure he could do this. Not telling her.

She might - someone should know, shouldn't they? Because it was a day off schedule and the doctor he'd hired wasn't even in place and what if he'd gotten it wrong, what if this was permanent, oh God, what if she didn't wake up?

Lanie jerked out of his grip and placed her hands on either side of Kate's unresponsive face, tears dripping. He growled and turned his back, taking deep breaths, his guts clenching.

"Castle, oh God, Castle, what have they done to her?"

He was going to hell. He couldn't - he couldn't-

"Lanie," he rasped, turning back around. Her eyes met his and it was like a boulder had dropped on his chest; he gasped and doubled over. "Lanie, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"What the hell do you know?" she hissed, rounding on him.

He held up both hands, saw they were trembling and dropped them. "Lanie, for God's sake, shut up. Not here, _not here_."

"You did something," she whispered fiercely, grabbing him by the arms. "What did you do? You need to tell me, Castle, so help me God, I will-"

"Greg and Amy, Greg and Amy." He pressed his hands into his eye sockets. "Go home. Ask Esposito. You can't - not here, Lanie. You can't ask me."

She stepped back, her face washed out, her eyes black with emotion. "Castle. What did you do."

"You can't ask me that."

"I'm not leaving here until you _tell me._"

* * *

"You are an _idiot_," she hissed, her eyes flashing obsidian.

He hung his head, eyes cutting to the woman on the bed. They'd been pushed back out of her room and now he could only see her through the glass. As usual.

"You are an idiot, but damn it, Castle, you're a romantic, unselfish, amazing idiot."

His head jerked up to look at Lanie, something struggling to life in his body. Something like hope.

"Can it - it will work, right? Lanie. It will work."

She stared back at him, but said nothing.

"It's - she's smaller than I thought. I misjudged. She's lost like twenty pounds, and I never thought - and now I don't-"

Just then, the monitors screamed from inside her room; a medical team shoved Castle to one side to get through the door even as the police officer on duty stood nervously just inside.

Kate's body arched from the bed, seizing as the drug fully wrecked her system. He'd given her small amounts to get her body at least somewhat prepared but, damn, he wasn't. He wasn't prepared.

It was only Tuesday.

Her chest jerked and rose with the rattle of her seizure; a nurse yelled and snatched at Kate's shoulder, turning her over as vomit surged out of Kate's mouth. Castle moaned and leaned against the glass, shaking.

Kate's eyes were open, some fluke of body movement; he could see her eyes roll back, her teeth clenching even as a nurse tried to insert the mouth guard again. Another violent wave of vomit, the nurse yanking out the mouth guard, and Castle pressed his forehead hard against the window, weeping.

Lanie clutched at him, her fingers digging into his elbow, nails so deep he couldn't even feel them anymore. She was making noises at his side; he bit down on his tongue to keep from collapsing.

The crashcart was jerked to a stop beside the bed; paddles out. A nurse had removed the mouth guard, was attempting to administer a bag to hand-pump air down Kate's body even as she heaved again.

A warning from the machines. The riot of people in their practiced movements all converging on Kate.

Castle's stomach dropped; the monitor flatlined.

* * *

The warden was furious; she arrived in person with none of her usual flair for PR or diplomacy.

Castle's grief was all too real; tears lined his face, rugged and deep. The warden took one look at him and her face paled.

"Oh God."

He turned his head away, fought back the overwhelming tide of despair that coursed through him. He doubled over, hands on his knees, and tried to breathe.

The warden twisted in the hall. "Shit. She's dead. Shit."

Oh God. Oh God. He - he'd killed her. He had killed her.

"I want her body in _my_ morgue," Lanie shouted from inside the room.

Oh God.

"No. You listen to me. She was _my friend_ and you basterds never once did what you were supposed to do. How the hell did she end up like this?"

Castle slumped against the wall, felt his knees give way.

"Look at her. Look at her _body_. What in God's name have you been doing over there?"

He hit the floor hard, his jaw rattling, and the despair rose up in him like a tsunami.

It was Tuesday. Tuesday. Oh God.

"You better write up those transfer orders right now. I am taking her home with me."

He felt the discharge of Lanie slamming her palms into the door and blowing out into the hallway, and then she was hauling him up off his ass and propelling him towards the exit.

"No!" He jerked back, wrenching around. "Kate - I can't-"

"You gotta trust me on this, Rick Castle. You told me, and now you have to _let me do this._"

* * *

Esposito looked like he wanted to do serious damage. Castle had his arms crossed over his chest and his heart was pounding too hard, and Lanie was glaring at him.

Alexis came on for her rotation and her face went pale when she saw them all there in Lanie's office.

"Dad."

He nodded, felt the tears kamikaze out of his red-rimmed eyes and suicide down his face. Alexis came for him, wrapped him up in a hug that did nothing to even begin to stem the tide.

"Oh God, what have I done?"

"It's Tuesday," Alexis whispered, her voice cracking.

"You were _in on this_?" Lanie hissed, jerking on Alexis's arm. "You are my medical student. What the hell are you doing keeping this from me? She's my _friend_, and you guys just-"

"I couldn't." Castle shook his head at her, kept his daughter in the safety of his arms. "I couldn't, Lanie. It couldn't be you. Alexis - she found out when I started asking about zombie powder-"

"_Zombie powder?_" Esposito stood up, hands on his hips, his anger like a lightning bolt. "You gave Beckett zombie powder?"

"He gave her tetrodotoxin," Lanie said on a murmur, staring at him even though she already knew; he'd told her. She was still just - so very shocked by him, probably. It was stupid. It was. "Holy shit. Holy shit, Castle. You have to be exactly right when you measure it out. It has to be the exact right dosage."

His throat closed up; he just nodded. "I - it was in her sleeping pills. Someone customized it for me. I got it through - a guy I know."

"You have to be exactly right, Castle."

"I _know_ that. I know. I - she lost so much weight, Lanie-"

His voice broke and Alexis hugged him tighter, but he sank back against Lanie's desk and closed his eyes, his grief drowning his words.

Alexis squeezed the back of his neck and jerked his head up to look at her. "She's not dead. Dad. Listen to me. You hear me? She's not dead."

He sucked in a breath and Lanie huffed out a breath, too much air in the room and not enough.

"She's right. If it worked and you didn't actually kill her, you stupid idiot, then she's not - she's not dead."

Esposito paced the room. "How the hell-"

"It causes paralysis, deep paralysis, stops respiration."

"If she ain't breathing, Castle, she's dead-"

"She's not dead," Alexis said harshly, glaring at Esposito.

Castle rubbed at his face and squeezed the bridge of his nose, taking in a deeper breath.

"I hope like hell you have an antidote of some kind," Esposito said.

Castle lifted his eyes to the man and he knew the desolation was leaking out of him. "Not - there's not - just adrenaline. But - no. There's no antidote."

"So we wait," Alexis gritted out, forcing her optimism into him with the hard grip of her hands on his shoulders. "We wait for her to wake up."


	7. Chapter 7

**Unvanquished**

* * *

Alexis had work to do, a job; she apologized and kissed his cheek as she left, and he was broken enough to take a few halting steps after her before Esposito clapped a hand on his shoulder and dragged him back.

Lanie made them wait in her office; time was a bitch. Javier glared at him, muttering in Spanish, and Castle knew enough curse words to know he was getting laid into. He pressed his fists into his eyes and tried not to think, but he was a damn writer and all his imagintation could do was think.

The hospital hadn't delivered the body - _Kate_ - yet. Lanie said it took time. It took time. Everything took time, but it was Tuesday, and time had ceased to be his friend.

And he knew what was happening to her - if it worked. He knew. He could envision all of it.

Paralysis, such extreme difficulty breathing that she'd feel like she was drowning, like her chest was too heavy, like she'd never be able to suck in a deep breath again.

People around her, disconnecting tubes, not hearing her as she screamed - her voice trapped in her head, her voice nothing at all.

Unable to move, unable to blink or make someone notice her, people passing right by and not stopping and her body no longer under her command, and then hands would transfer her to a black bag, the zipper would raise up over her in a flash, and then darkness. And Castle had never even had time to warn her what it would be like because he'd been afraid she wouldn't do it-

He'd taken the choice from her because he needed her so badly, and now she was alone, paralyzed and afraid and in the darkness, alone.

* * *

He heard the delivery, the gurney being wheeled in, and he jumped up to go for her, but Esposito blocked the door and clamped his shoulders in a vice made of his hands and forcibly sat him back down on the edge of Lanie's desk.

"You are not going to risk all of our freedom by running out there before Lanie comes to get us," Esposito growled. "You love Beckett; we get it. Ain't no way in hell I'm letting you ruin this now for us."

He sat, his lungs like stone. Like Kate's.

The morgue was emptying out. Lanie had the night shift anyway; she often came in early. No one would remark, especially knowing that her best friend had died-

God, oh God, help them. Help them. Kate.

He pressed his elbows into his thighs and buried his head in his hands, tried to breathe. He couldn't breathe. Kate couldn't breathe; she needed - he needed to get to her, because she was all alone and she couldn't move and he'd done such a terrible thing to her. It was all his fault.

"Zombie powder," Esposito huffed.

"Shut the hell up, Javier," he growled, lifting his head to stare the man down.

Esposito's jaw worked, he flexed his hand like he wanted to make a fist, but he shut his mouth. Sat down.

* * *

It was Alexis who came and got him; he hustled out after her, walking fast, trying desperately not to run, and Alexis led him around the corridor, down another hall, and back towards the cold storage room.

"Is she okay?" he breathed.

"Dad," Alexis said softly, her eyes gentle on him.

"Right, right, stupid question. She's naked and paralyzed and lying in a morgue freezer and-"

"Dad."

He nodded, his throat closing up, and followed her inside.

Lanie was already unzipping the black body bag. He rushed to Kate's side and jerked to a stop at the look of her.

Dead. She looked dead. She looked _dead_. And he'd done it.

He reached out and caressed her cheek; her eyes were closed. Someone had closed her eyes. Oh, oh, thank God, someone had closed her eyes. She looked cold and alone, but somehow-

He pressed his lips to her forehead and was relieved to feel the pliancy of skin. Not warm, not entirely, but not cold, not lifeless either.

"Kate," he murmured, fumbling for her hand without looking, fingers brushing her bare hip, skirting her side as he squeezed. "Kate, I love you, I love you. I'm so sorry, but you're going to be fine. You're going to be okay."

"Castle, I need to do this." Lanie said, nudging at him. He lifted up from his wife, saw Lanie was trying to get at Kate but he'd been blocking the way.

"Right," he said, and shifted up near Kate's head, releasing her hand to feather his fingers at her temples, kiss her forehead again, put his lips by her ear to reassure her. "Kate. It's me. You're okay."

_Please let that be true._

Please let her be alive in there. Somewhere.

* * *

Lanie gave him a long look, the syringe and needle in her hands looking entirely too large, entirely too deadly.

He sucked in a breath. He thought maybe it would be better not to tell Kate what was coming next.

"She's probably not conscious right now," Lanie said.

"Alexis," he grit out. His daughter came at his back and hugged him, her chin over his shoulder.

"She's probably not conscious, Dad. Lanie's right. Lanie said she had a bad seizure, was vomiting? She may be paralyzed, but I bet she's not awake. I bet she's not going to know any of this. Okay?"

He nodded at Lanie. "Okay."

"One." Lanie raised the needle over Kate's chest. "Two."

His heart started to beat wildly; he buried his fingers in Kate's hair.

"Three."

She plunged the needle into Kate Beckett's heart.

* * *

There was nothing.

* * *

He squeezed his eyes closed and viciously prayed.

* * *

Alexis murmured at him, hands over his, trying to pull him away.

"Don't touch me. Don't touch me. _Kate_."

* * *

He bowed his head against hers, couldn't find the will to breathe.

A sob was wrenched from the depths of him and he pressed his mouth against her eye, her cheek, a litany of fierce love pouring out of him.

"Castle it's been-"

And then a sucking gasp, a rattle, and Lanie went still.

"She's trying to breathe," he said.

"Oh my God."

"She's trying to breathe. Lanie. _Help her._"

* * *

He could feel her heartbeat, erratic and awkward under his fingertips now. He could feel the small flex of her index finger against his palm.

"I know, I know, Kate. I know. I got you." He pressed his mouth to her wrist, the pulse jumped at his touch. "Oh God, Kate. I know. I know."

Lanie shoved him aside and felt for the pulse herself, then moved again, adjusting the oxygen levels. "You are damn lucky we just happened to have this equipment here, Richard Castle."

He didn't even care. He didn't care. The oxygen was flowing down into her body, breath and life, and he only had eyes for Kate.

Alexis came back into the room; they'd moved Kate from cold storage into an empty autopsy suite, Castle had dressed her in scrubs Lanie had found, wrapped her in the thermal blankets Ryan had brought with him. Castle had never intended this many people to be involved; he'd wanted only to get Kate out, to do it alone, the risk theirs alone, but they had created a family out of these people and he saw now how unfair it had been, keeping them in the dark.

"Dad," Alexis said gently. "We need to move her. The medical school has an observation in here in thirty minutes."

He leaned over his wife and pressed his lips to her cheek, stroked his mouth down to her ear. "We've got to move you out of here, Kate, love. Okay? We're going to move you. Just keep focusing on breathing, trying to breathe."

"I'm keeping you hooked up to oxygen, Kate." Alexis took the brake off the canister and rolled it around to the side of the gurney. "Dad, we're taking her into Lanie's office."

"The gurney won't fit-"

"No, not the gurney. They need it for the observation. I need you to pick her up, and follow me closely so the oxygen doesn't dislodge."

"Yes, okay," he said, nodding at her. Alexis gave him a long look, strength in her gaze, and then Castle slowly slid his arm under Kate's neck.

Her body twitched. "Hey, I got you. You're okay. I'm going to carry you, Kate." He carefully scooped her up under her knees; her body was so long that she sagged against him, but so very light that it was like picking up a bird - all hollow bones and injured wings.

He adjusted her against him, brought her head up to his shoulder, then wrapped his arm around her back instead. Alexis folded the warming blanket and piled it on top of Kate's lap. Castle squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips to his wife's cheek, murmuring in her ear for a moment, nonsense words he was sure, but he couldn't let her think she was alone.

Alexis nodded at him and pushed the oxygen tank towards the door. "If I see someone, Dad, we'll have to duck into an empty suite and hide. Okay? So pay attention."

"Yes."

She turned her head to look at him, his beautiful, courageous daughter. "You can do this."

He took a long breath, the pungent scent of the morgue in his nostrils, but his arms so very full.

"I got it," he said to her. To both of them.

* * *

He couldn't let her go; his arms wouldn't obey. He leaned against the wall as he sat on the floor of Lanie's office, his legs out in front of him and Kate draped against him. He cradled her because he didn't know what else to do.

The oxygen tank was on the floor beside them, attached to the little tubing, the cannula, that went into her nose. She was still wrapped in the warming blanket; it made an awful noise every time he shifted. His bottom and legs were numb, but he couldn't let her go.

He pressed his lips to her neck, eyes closed, breathing her in, feeling for the rhythm of her pulse with his mouth.

Lanie checked on her periodically; Alexis had been the one to suggest they move out of sight of the door, so they were back here behind Lanie's desk. Ryan and Esposito were raiding his apartment for the travel bags he'd packed ages ago.

In hopes that she'd wake. In hopes that she'd been able to breathe enough while paralyzed to not do permanent brain damage. In hopes that the doses of toxin he'd been feeding her - one sleeping pill at a time - had done their job and allowed her to build up a slight resistance to the poison so that her vital organs hadn't shut down.

He sucked in a breath and ghosted his hand over her arm, couldn't keep himself from laying his palm at her belly, rubbing his fingers over the material of her scrubs.

"Kate," he murmured. "I need you to wake up. I need you to open your eyes and look at me." He placed an open-mouth kiss at her cheekbone, drifted down to her mouth to hover there, unwilling to seal off her fragile breath for even an instant.

"Kate, please." He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, drying the renegade tear, and then feathered a kiss at the hinge of her jaw.

He could feel her pulse skip whenever he touched her with his mouth.

"I feel you, Kate. I feel you trying to move. Just breathe, love. Just breathe and it will wear off. I promise. It will wear off so long as you keep breathing."


	8. Chapter 8

**Unvanquished**

* * *

In the beginning. . .was the void,  
. . .and darkness,  
. . . . . .and the face of the deep.

She was formless  
over the deep, as a wind without direction,  
swept clean above the waters.

And then  
there was light. And  
it was good.

In the center of the light was the word. The word  
that curled out a hand and touched her, brought  
her being to breath, brought her breath to life. And it was good.

It was him. It was love.

* * *

She jerked into consciousness-

and nothing moved.

No way to move. Nothing moved. Her heart pounded furiously and her breath escaped on a whine, slowly, without her control, and then she sucked air down into her lungs in a great and powerful gulp, her mouth gaping like a fish-

and she opened her eyes.

"Oh God, oh thank God. Kate. Kate, love-"

She heaved in another breath, felt her arm flail towards him, curl at his neck, her eyes wild and unable to focus and then the light burned it away and she was huddled into his arms and he was chanting her name over and over, his whole being raw and grated and reaching out for her.

"Castle."

"Oh _God,_ it's so good to hear your voice," he moaned. "Kate."

* * *

Her legs were numb, her torso burned like ice as feeling came back, but Castle was stroking her face with his hands, over and over, tears spilling down his cheeks and landing at her throat, collecting there. She lifted a hand but couldn't make it stay.

"Cold," she ground out, her throat still raw. "Cold."

He'd stretched her out on the floor when she'd woken up, and now he curled at her side, up on his elbows to keep from laying on her, and his mouth worked kisses into her hairline, mapping the contour of her face.

"You can breathe," he whispered. "Breathe for me."

She sucked in a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Cold."

"I know," he murmured and huddled closer, sharing the heat of his body with her. She couldn't keep her eyes open.

"Tired."

"Don't sleep, Kate. Don't sleep. Alexis said you can't fall back asleep. Not until the numbness wears off."

"Tired."

"No, Kate. No. Just - stay awake. Stay here with me. Stay with me, Kate."

She could rest at least. She could rest and never. . .

"No. Kate. Talk to me. Something. Kate."

"Cold."

"Okay, okay, I know. The warming blanket is under you because the floor is cold, and I'm staying right here, Kate. I won't leave you. I'm right here."

"Tired."

"_Kate._"

The urgency in his voice made her eyes flicker open and she stared at him, tried to remember.

"Kate. Please. Say something else. Say, say something else. Anything else. Please, baby, say something-"

"Castle."

* * *

"No, _no_," she panicked, couldn't do anything to stop them, couldn't even make her arms work right. "Castle!"

"It's okay; it's okay. Castle went to get the car."

"No. No-" She sucked in a breath, her head swimming, vision going black, and then a warm hand came over hers, squeezed.

"Kate." Soft, insistent.

Kate opened her eyes. Alexis.

"It's just for a few minutes, Kate. I promise. Dad went to get the car and make sure the coast was clear. You - you'll have to go out in the body bag."

"Castle," she moaned, but nothing worked right, nothing made sense, and all she knew was the darkness of the bag as they zipped it agonizingly up.

"Kate, we can't sedate you, honey. You need to calm down. I know it's hard; I know you don't have control of everything, but we need you to calm down."

Lanie? Lanie.

"Castle," she whispered.

"Dad's getting the hearse, Kate. You're going to be fine. I'll keep my hand over yours through the bag, okay? You'll be able to feel me the whole way."

_No._

* * *

"Do you think it's brain damage?"

"I don't _know_, Castle. You didn't exactly give me time to research any of this."

"But she hasn't - it's been like three words, and her eyes won't focus on me. She doesn't seem to _know_."

"She's been dead for the last four hours. Give it time. That's all I know to say."

"But she-"

"_Dad._"

"Okay. I know. Okay."

"Let's load her in the back."

* * *

"Kate?" He watched her eyelids flicker open, roving. "Kate, you're safe. You're okay. I got you."

"Castle," she moaned, and something clicked as their eyes met.

He jerked the body bag off of her legs and pulled her out, against his chest, cradling her so tightly. "Oh, baby, oh, Kate. Oh Kate. I got you."

She stirred against him, her shoulders moving, her arm, and then her fingers were at his neck. "Castle," she breathed, and it sounded like the first deep breath she'd gotten in -

in months.

* * *

She was awake again. Propped up on him, against the headboard, darkness reigning outside. But in this little temporary home, she was awake and it was brilliant as the sun inside. He could keep her safe, protect her; he could. He could.

"You okay? Kate. Are you okay?"

"Whole body hurts."

He stroked the hair back from her face. "How're the legs?"

She wriggled her toes in response and he grinned at her; the tight feeling in his chest easing, slowly.

"Fingers?"

He felt the skimming touch up his inside thigh and yelped, jerking as she grinned.

Oh, _Kate._

* * *

"Your head?" His fingers caressed the side of her face, stroked into her hair to graze her scalp, over and over. He checked the IV line running into the crook of her elbow, nutrient rich. He wished it worked faster.

She shook her head slowly, lips pressed together. "Hurts. Hurts to breathe, move."

"That's the toxin. I'm sorry. It's - it was all I could find, all I could get my hands on, and then Alexis discovered what I was doing and she feels so responsible, and guilty, and I thought you were really gone-"

"Too much," she breathed out, blinking her eyes at him. "In the pills. But I'm - just let me lie here and breathe."

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, skated his mouth over her eyelid. "I love you so much."

"I know," she murmured. "Proved it."

"Proved-?"

"Broke me out." And then her eyes flickered up to stare at him in horror. "You - you and _Alexis_ broke me out of prison." She cleared her throat. "Castle. Where are we?"

"A place I bought. Don't worry. You're hidden. The doctor at Beth Israel signed your death certificate. Lanie took you to the morgue, I drove the hearse to the funeral home, and then we took a different car here-"

He saw her shiver and curled her closer against his side.

"I'll have to go back and sign some papers at the mortuary to claim your ashes. But Alexis and I drove out here. To be alone with our grief is the party line."

"Alexis," she sighed, turning guilty eyes to him.

"She was the one who - a lot of this was her doing, Kate. She loves you too, you know."

Her eyes were drooping, even though she struggled, so he stopped talking, brushed his thumb over her lids. "You can sleep now, Kate. I'll make sure you keep breathing."

"You can't stay up," she murmured, and already her voice was fading.

"You're on a heart monitor," he said softly, kissing the delicate lines at her eyes. "It will sound an alarm. You'll be fine. I'll be fine."

"I'm dead?"

"To everyone else." He kissed the groove of that tendon in her forehead. "Except your Dad; he knows of course."

She sighed and curled slowly against him; he lowered her down to the bed until he could drag her over him, one of her legs tangled with his, her mouth open against his shoulder.

"Castle. Too much. You've done too much."

He breathed her in and her body rose and fell with his chest.

"Just wait. There's more."


	9. Chapter 9

**Unvanquished - Epilogue**

* * *

Kate brushed her fingers slowly over the edge of the stone bridge, listening to the water slide smoothly over mossy banks. It wasn't a dream, wasn't a fairy tale. She lived - now - in a castle.

With a Castle.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she walked carefully back up the path, her breathing measured out against her steps. Her toes, her fingers - sometimes they blanched white with blood-loss and then burned as the sensation came back, all without reason. But today, so far, had been good. A warm day spent under the trees along the creek, the sounds of gurgling water and smooth stone and calling birds.

Alexis was supposed to stop by later in the week; she'd finished her overseas rotation in a London surgery, but she was leaning back towards medical examiner. To Castle's perverse pleasure. She'd be able to spend the next three months with them, hopefully be here for the big event.

Kate felt her fingers trembling against her thigh as she mounted the last ridge, green spread out around her and rolling down the gentle slope towards their home. The Kremlin, he liked to call it.

Russian for Castle.

It wasn't really; it was a beautiful, remote stone-worked house with arches and a windowed turret on the Black Sea near Sochi. The weather was gorgeous and amazing, their home was solitary and lovely and calm, and Kate never thought she'd be living in Russia with Richard Castle, never thought her job would include editing his first draft of a novel about Russian spies, never thought any of this would happen quite like it had.

And then he appeared, ambling down the path towards her with a clouded look; his flight had just gotten in. She waited, grateful for the rest, pressed her hand against her chest as she struggled to breathe deeply. Her lungs were still not at full capacity, and they both worried over it, especially now, but there was nothing to do for it.

He met her just under the shade of the last tree, brushed his fingers at her jaw, his eyes grateful. "I never thought it'd be that hard."

She lifted into him, a gentle kiss to his mouth, sharing the grief that slowly unwound from around him. "I'm sorry you had to do it alone."

"I couldn't face Madison. And Captain Gates - God, Kate - it was terrible. It was - it was like a terrible anniversary memorial - they gave me your flag, and then I got on a plane and flew to Russia, and here you are." His eyes cleared a little more, fingers skimming her cheekbone, the side of her neck. He stepped in closer and slid his arms around her waist.

"Thank you," she murmured. "My Dad-"

"I gave it to him. And I told him - he was - he's going to fly out and visit. He promised to make it in time."

She gave a relieved smile to him, leaned in to press her closed eyes against his neck, squeezing out the last of the darkness. His arms raised and wrapped around her shoulders, holding her as close as he could get her.

His mouth feathered at her temple, hands stroking her back. She had thought the funeral was bad; he'd come back to the place he'd hidden them upstate with a cloud over him, and it took a month to get him to laugh without a shadow behind his eyes.

They'd been in Russia only a few months when his publicist had messaged him that the NYPD was having a fallen officers memorial service; it was in his best interest to stop mourning, show up, and do his duty.

"How was your speech?"

"My voice kept cracking. Because all I could think about was how you looked yesterday morning in bed before I left, how amazing, what a miracle this is-" He stopped, his voice breaking even now, and brushed his hand down her belly, snagged her hip.

"Rick," she sighed softly.

"I'm okay," he rasped. "More than okay. But they were all there to pay their respects. So many. Lanie and Esposito kept running interference, answering questions. I'm sure I looked a mess. I overheard a woman saying she didn't think I'd ever get over you."

"Better not," she laughed softly. "I may have no real legal standing-"

"Yes you do," he huffed back at her, fingers tracing patterns against her shirt, her stomach fluttering in response. "You're Kate Castle. You have papers and everything."

She grinned at him and he sighed.

"You're messing with me."

"You used to be able to take it." She came up on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Shake it off, Castle."

"I will. Come inside with me and you can help cheer me up."

She laced her fingers through his, tugging his hand away from her waist. "So long as you don't stop to talk to my stomach instead of-"

"That only happened _once_, Kate. One time."

She pressed close to his side, nudging him up the path. "The baby doesn't need sweet nothings whispered in its ear. Only me," she said, her voice low, guaranteed to get to him. "And I'd rather they be a little more naughty than that, but _hey baby_ works for me too-"

He growled at her, ducked his head to nip at her ear, tongue and teeth. Warmth slid through her body, a flash of heat that made her stomach flip.

Just her stomach. Baby was too little to be showing off. Still.

"Come on, Castle. I'm not doing this out here. Not without pillows."

He laughed, his voice right at her ear, the sound rich and blessed and healing, and then he straightened up and crooked his elbow at her. She slid her arm through his, peering up at him in the brilliant, warm sunlight, this man who had broken her out of jail so that they could have all of this.

Broken her out of jail, faked her death, gone to her funeral, and then faced everyone she'd ever known and perpetuated the myth.

"Castle?"

"Yeah? Hey, maybe we can go to the beach after-"

"Castle." She squeezed his bicep to get his attention. "More than I thought possible, more than ever before - I love you."

He swiveled his head to stare down at her, and then that beautiful, all-encompassing smile stretched across his face and lighted up his eyes.

"I'd do it again, Kate. In a heartbeat."

It was all the answer she needed.


End file.
